Gseven's files that make you go, hmmmmm
by Gseven
Summary: This is the first of my true one shot ideas. Most of the rest will be other Potter, some Ranma, Sailor Scout and SG-1 ideas
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything like the Harry Potter universe. Dammit.**

**I don't own much of anything at all… WAAAAH!**

**Dumbledore Trips over a Solution;**

**Or OOOPSY.**

Albus Dumbledore was in a quandary. Just the previous evening he'd been involved in an employment interview with an applicant for the Divination post. This was not a normal event for him, he had planned upon explaining to the woman that the entire course was to be scrapped, only allowing for students that showed an aptitude obtaining personal instruction by much more prolific seers than the young woman.

However, he did feel he owed it to Sybil, since she was a descendant of Cassandra. Even if she hadn't had any properly determined visions to date. In fact, he had just opened his mouth to inform her of the new school curriculum when she dropped into a daze and spoke with a deep and ethereal voice giving what he could only believe was a real prophecy.

'Drat the luck!' he steamed in his mind as the statement was made. 'Most unfortunate. Alas, I am the only one that will be able to remember it. The magic won't allow poor simple Sybil to recall her utterance. It's only bad luck that young Severus overheard the first part of it.' Nodding his head to himself at the memory of hearing his brother oust the deluded boy.

For now Albus was determining what he should do about the prophecy he had been given. He'd already concluded that there would only be two children that the lines could apply too. And both were yet unborn, therefore, the seventh month part of the prophecy. 'Two young families that may be impacted terribly by Tom and his evil vendetta.'

Staring through his window from the Headmasters Office located in the secondary minaret of the North Tower, Albus thought deeply upon this conundrum. 'There must be a way to use the prophecy that won't endanger anymore youth of the Wizarding World. The Greater Good requires that I find a solution. Sybil's vision clearly speaks of a hero that would be powerful enough to defeat Tom… perhaps it is time for some research into working around prophecy.'

Coughing in agreement with himself, the Headmaster climbed the spiral stairs to his personal library and began researching the problem. The next week saw many books discarded with minor disgust and a grunted, 'No help there.'

The following week showed a bit more promise of result when he, quite unexpected, found an old tome of Runes located on a shelf dedicated to magical theory. Thumbing through the book, he found that Armando Dippet had been mad about other universes and written many annotations in the extremely advanced Runes textbook. That was when Albus had the remarkable idea of summoning a hero from another world to help with the war against Tom and his Death Eaters.

If he failed, he would only be out the ingredients and materials used for the ritual. But if he succeeded… well, the Wizarding World could truly become that Utopia he had long dreamed of.

He set about collecting the needed scrolls and books of Arithmancy, Runes and advanced Ritual Design and began to craft the new Ritual and design the Runic Array that would be employed during the procedure. He spent many an hour for the following weeks as the school year wound down, designing array and calculating the power requirements. Free moments were spent enchanting the objects that would be used or waiting for delivery of the twenty-four dragon blood candles. Two days were spent in imbuing the twelve crystals with re'em blood. Ten thousand galleons spent on obtaining the single basilisk fang he could locate.

Ten days spent waiting for the ingredient collector to bring him the toenail of a virgin giantess. He expended favors owed to him in collecting dragon tears, the hair of an unborn mermaid, the dying breath of an ancient vampire and the nostril hair of a Chinese Fireball. The fortune he'd spent on the basilisk fang was nothing compared to the fortune in gold and political capitol that he spent in obtaining mummified lethifold skin, the bile of a boggart and the scalp of a redcap.

It took until the very last day of the school year before all the material had been gathered, and his calculations weren't complete as yet. He gave all the staff the entire summer off so that he could work in solitude and not worry of interruptions. The month of July was spent with the preparations for the ritual, even as he finished his final calculations and designing the Runic Array.

He had reasoned that a wizard powerful enough to defeat Tom would require tremendous amount of power to summon, so he determined to use the mana tap of the Ward stones of Hogwarts to power the Ritual. His own magic would be used in directing the search part of the enchantment, while the power of Hogwarts would bring the wizard to his realm. And rather than corrupt the Runes needed by carving them with the most powerful wand in existence, Albus opted to carve them by hand in the floor of the Great Hall.

Moving the student tables out of the way and stacking the majority to the side under the Slytherin banners, and sliding the few that wouldn't fit there to the Gryphindor side, the ancient wizard conjured knee pads and knelt on the floor and began the layout of the Array. Six days it took him to outline what he could carve out with the waxy chalk staining his fingers and robes. Meals and short naps the only time he took any break from his work. After the terribly intricate runes had been marked out he transfigured scaffolding that he might lie down and carve the surface of the stone into the shapes of the Runes. Twelve days he worked on this aspect of the plan to save his world.

Once the runes were carved, he carefully tested each to ensure they would perform as they had been designed to. Then he set about constructing the stands that would hold the crystals, standard candle holders were all that were required for the dragon blood candles. The other ingredients were systematically ground and mixed into a thick paste to fill each of the Runes to increase the intent of the Ritual. Finally, on July 31, at one in the morning, he was finished with the easy part of the task.

Yes, all that labor was the easy part to his mind. Performing the Ritual would be tremendously draining upon his magical core. He partook of a large meal and then slept until time to begin the Ritual. He planned to complete the Ritual at Midnight exactly, the time when the magic would be most powerful in relation to the Hero he intended to call. The Prophecy did say as the seventh month dies.

It would be a lengthy four hours of chanting that evening and he had to begin the Ritual at precisely eight o'clock if he intended to complete it at Midnight. So he slept until he absolutely had to get up, to be certain that he was fully rested. Once he woke he had another large meal aided with strengthening draught. He also drank a specialty potion invented for orators that would improve the stamina of his speech for the full four hours.

It was a simple potion that didn't even have a name it was so ubiquitous. He was sure that he was not the only political figure to use it. Once all his preparations were complete, Albus took his position in the enchanter's circle of the Array and waited for the clock to strike eight. He had placed a timed silencing charm upon the clock to chime that hour and strike the Midnight hour, all the hours between being muffled by magic so he couldn't be disturbed by them.

Promptly, as the final reverberations of the final toll sounded, Albus began to chant, 'Tu'Gro, pheal benit colume sypphael 'kIslkar kirit nom hkeskary goneth t'Allem tol…' The language so old even when the muggles first began their earliest civilizations in recorded history it was ancient. On through the evening he chanted the phrases of Summoning, opening a portal into his world to bring a hero.

Albus was old still, at nearly one hundred and thirty, and the Ritual still took a tremendous toll on him, straining his core as the search through the universes went out. As massive as his core was, his vision swam with the effort and the sweat of the concentration dripped from his brow and into his beard. He hair became lank with the moisture, his muscles protested the extended period of standing in one place, gesturing with his hands, shaping the magic. His bones felt the vibration of the magic as it hummed into the room he performed the summoning in.

Eventually, as with all things, the time came for the end of the Ritual, he shouted the last word of power to complete the chant with the beginning of the toll of midnight. BONG… his sight grew narrowed into a tunnel… BONG… the last word of his chant echoed throughout the empty castle… BONG… a glow began to swell in the center of the array… BONG… the glow became brighter, cycling through the rainbow and into colors never seen by man or wizard… BONG… ambient sound inverted and turned upside down… BONG… the candles around the rim of the array gave off brighter light that tasted like vanilla and old sandals… BONG… the crystals hummed like blinding Jell-O… BONG… Albus hearing became blind and his vision grew deaf… BONG… his beard became stuck to the roof of his mouth while his tongue wrapped around his knees… BONG… his feet felt as if they would buckle and his boots felt tight at his waist… BONG… Albus knew he could stay upright on his elbows for much longer and tried to keep his wrists straight… BONG… a great feeling of water rushing through one ear and out the other and he passed out.

o0O0o

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore woke to the smell of a grand breakfast feast and the sounds of many pieces of flatware. He groaned as he began to stir. Shortly he felt the welcomed hands of assistance helping him to sit up.

Casting his gaze around the Great Hall, Albus saw that the majority of the tables for students had been left where he had placed them. But under the Gryphindor banners, those tables were where they belonged. And the benches were filled from one end to the other, both sides. The piles of food being eaten by an enormous number of individuals that all shared remarkable resemblance to one another. Painfully turning his head to face the Head table he could see the staff chairs also filled, his own throne like seat occupied by a man barely a hundred years old. But these people also shared that same remarkable resemblance to the others he had already seen.

There were a dozen or so black haired girls, or redheaded ones. The vast majority of the people Albus could see had black hair, but all of them had emerald green eyes. And all of them were looking at him. As it was noticed that he had woken, the sounds of eating tapered into silence. When all was still the man in Albus chair spoke, "Well, you manipulative old fossil. It looks like you really over stepped your bounds here."

"You seem to have me at an advantage sir, You appear to be James Potter… but he does not have green eyes." Albus stated.

"No. No he doesn't, or didn't as the case may be," admitted the oldest man the Headmaster could see. Gesturing around the room for Albus to look and possibly understand, "We are Harry James Potter. And those of us who are old enough to have defeated our Tom Riddle have a few questions for you Albus. Not the least of which is, why aren't you dead? As well as, what are you going to do about the worlds that you've left defenseless against Tom? And, why shouldn't we kill you for your hubris? "

"Oh dear!" the enormity of his desire for the Greater Good finally coming to clear focus to his mind, the condemnation of possibly billions to the less than tender mercies of a plethora of Voldemorts on other worlds screaming his own guilt in his ears.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

A/N… weird idea about Albus actually attempting to do something and going overboard. Rather than allow events to occur and manipulate them afterward to create his sacrificial lamb. The idea would be here that Albus performed the summoning in a place that used too much power and drew more than was asked for to his world. All of them the same person, but variations of a theme, from not quite eleven to already old and wise in the way of the world and having thought about what had been done to him.

Each Harry would be from a different world, some of which hadn't been able to face their individual Tom and destroy him yet. All because Dumbledore was too goody-goody to do what was actually right and get his hands dirty. I hope you liked it.

Garret Evans and the Wizard of Idiom will be continued, my new concrete formers have finally gotten here and I will be able to cast the next slab to carve on soon.

Gseven


	2. Chapter 2

Doncha just hate it when a rabid plot bunny bites you in the ass and begins behaving much more like a pit bulldog with a meaty bone? Here we have another example of my odd thought processes. If you think about it, it is kind of scary that I am able to even get some of these ideas.

By the way, I don't own Ranma ½… I am, however, willing to worship at the feet of the goddess of creative humor Takahashi Rumiko Sama.

NOW THAT'S DIFFERENT!

He know's the Ranma-ken?

He could remember almost to the day he'd been born and the first taste of his mother's milk when he began to suckle the very first time. It had been a wonderful time with no cares or worries. Nothing but eating and sleeping, wonderful days. Then he was weaned and had to leave his mother in order to grow into the fighter he would become.

It had been mostly fun. But the near unending times of hunger, being chased by much hungrier, much bigger animals hadn't been. But it made him fast. He became fast enough to obtain food without very much difficulty once he had learned how to outrun the growling gnashing teeth of the larger predators.

It seemed that his travels took him all over the world, but wherever he stopped, for however long he stayed, he always learned more tricks and techniques to get stronger and better. It could be supposed that he was a savant in the way he picked up new ways to fight and win and survive. And without any real evidence to remove it, he came to believe it himself, almost to the point of arrogant conceit. He seldom lost a fight and if he did, he always managed to come back and win at a later date.

Most of the time, after he had defeated an opponent, he would never have to worry about that particular opponent again. Oh, sure they would always come back to try again, but there were few that approached his level. There were a couple that were near his level and they were the best practice he could hope for, these ones were the most persistent at trying to take his title away. But somehow, they never were able to surpass him.

Then one day, when he was six, a man covered in a canvas style garment threw him into a hole. It had been terrifying. Horrible things happened and he barely escaped with his life. It took him weeks to overcome the fear of the episode.

Then it happened again, when a skinny man with dark circles under his eyes threw him into another hole.

Then the loudly screeching laugh woman did it.

The old woman that used a cane as a pogostick.

The boy that turned into a duck.

The man that wore a kerchief on his head.

The violent girl that was related to the kind woman.

The boy that smelled like a pig.

The kind woman that fed him sometimes.

So many times it happened, and then the last time it happened… he snapped and became something else. Something more, something stronger, faster and better. Something truly free. Each of these episodes had only one thing that remained the same. Him, the one that screamed in terror and then became very scary. That scary one was never actively mean to anything that didn't mean him harm, but he was tough.

Once he escaped the last time he had been thrown into a pit, he set up a permanent camp in the park and stayed there. It was much easier to get food and be able to practice as much as he wanted there. Most people would leave him alone. Although there were some that would watch in amazement at his dexterity and skill.

While he would practice he would think about his life and what he could do. He assumed he was the only one to ever have it happen to him and he felt that he alone would be able to pass on his knowledge of what not to do. He also noticed that he was pretty popular with the females. So popular that a number of them would fight each other to be with him. He couldn't explain why that was the case, he was just himself, and nothing really special beyond being the best fighter there was.

He mused about it while practicing what he learned and spied out from secret hiding places, watching those that were beyond his skills. He practiced what they did and learned how to do it mostly on his own with no help from anyone. He was always amazed at what the old ones knew and practiced, and tried his best to add it to what he knew.

The whistling of the air as he flew through it on another unplanned, unwanted, and unexpected flight over the ward from a ki mallet powered strike, Ranma wondered if staying in Nerima was really worth it. All the women after him for their own desires and not caring a whit for what he wanted in a relationship was truly beginning to drag at his spirit. Some guys would think it was a great life that he had, but the horror of it would never be realized by any except the few that shared his fate.

Ranma had met a couple of them and he actually felt kinship with at least one. The pervert in Tomobiki was not him though. The kid in Yokohama was much more like Ranma in the respect that he had too many interested in him and most didn't take into account his desires. There was also that Kentaro guy that picks up school stuff like Ranma picks up the Art. He also gets girls interested almost as fast as Ranma. The guy is a kind of pervert though, so the pigtailed boy didn't really identify with him that much.

Then there's that Tuxedo Guy in Juuban that has all those Magical girls he's involved with, SHUDDER. Ranma actually felt sorry for that guy, even though he was a wimp. The thought that Magical Girls with the same focus of flagellate the fiancé as the girls he dealt with regularly kind of scared him. Not that he would admit to being scared or anything, it ain't manly.

He wouldn't mind just having one girl to concentrate on, even if she was Magical. As long as she could cook okay and would give him a chance to say what was on his mind without jumping to conclusions and pounding him. Can cook, doesn't get jealous when he talks to another girl for longer than five seconds. Can cook, and pays attention to her surroundings and actually looks to see if the sign is up for the furo, and doesn't mallet him when she walks in on him. Can cook, really does want to be a martial artist and can take the training he offers doesn't get angry and mallet him into the next ward for not taking her seriously. Can cook, can except that he is actually one the best martial artists in the world because of training and doesn't try to cheat to get to his level. And can cook.

Ranma really doesn't want a lot out of a relationship, just the ability to practice a lot, get to eat decent food and teach the Art to the next generation Saotome. Without, of course, the crap that his own Pops had come up with. Ranma didn't know what his old man had been smoking those times he came up with stupid things like tying him to the train and having him run to build his speed. Being chased by hungry wolves while carrying his fat old man in a couch on his back through a swamp. Stirring up a hornet's nest to increase his speed and hand eye coordination.

Never mind that the training techniques worked, but they were stupid and dangerous.

None of the other guys in his boat had the curse he had or an idiot panda for a father either. They did have their own problems though, so he could relate, mostly. Really, is it wrong to want to live beyond a badly prepared meal? The tomboy doesn't have to be so touchy about it does she? 'I mean, just cuz yer a girl don't mean ya can cook cuz it's in yer genes or sumpin',' Ranma thought as he flew toward the park that was in Nerima. 'More I think about it, the more attractive running away and getting a Magical girlfriend is.' He played with the thought. At least a Magical girl could deal with the crazies in his life a lot better than a normal girl could. 'Knowin' my luck, the panda has already engaged me to one, and she just ain't found out yet. Kami, I hope it ain't the one that throws fire around. She's almost as bad as Akane. Or the one with the meatballs on her head, she's too clumsy.'

The destination surprised him and brought out a little concern for his Tendo fiancée, thinking she might be coming down with something. He almost never lands here anymore, the Nerima Municipal Park. It's too close in to the dojo and Furinkan. 'Heh, mebbe she just got more height this time than usual. It is a pretty calm day, wind wise.' He thought.

He mused over the time he'd spent in Nerima at the Tendo's. Everything he'd done for them, and still no thanks beyond attempted poisonings by Akane. Nabiki still took advantage of him, old man Tendo still cry's at the drop of a ramen bowl about how 'the schools will be joined.' If what the old freak told Ranma, the schools were never supposed to be separated to begin with and he was already the heir. So there is no actual need for the Tendo/Saotome pact. Nobody knew it, but since the train wreck wedding attempt, Ranma had been doing some research on the sly. And talking to a few representatives in the government. With all the agreements his Pops had made, Ranma was under no legal or honor obligation to uphold any of them.

His honor would be his own and he could go his own way.

The nice thing about the train wreck, everybody was a lot calmer now. Ranma thought they were all waiting for him to snap and start treating him the way they treated him. With no respect and the expectation that they had no say in how their lives would go. The first time he spanks Akane would be the last day he would be allowed to stay at the dojo.

The Amazons were laying low since the wedding destruction they had been part of and the fallout of that. Ukyo was being pretty subdued as well. Kodachi, well she's nuts and doesn't think she was wrong to do what she had. All the rivals except the loon with the stick were being pretty quiet too.

The only real problem he had was the tomboy and her anger management issues. 'Kami! How many times can she possibly walk into the bath and ignore the sign before she learns to pay attention?'

Taking note of his current altitude, Ranma prepared for the coming impact. Flaring his ki and infusing his skeletal structure and muscles with it to absorb the landing. And then, impact! A dust cloud and a new crater are formed. Forsaking getting up for awhile, believing that he would have some time to rest and think about what he would be doing next. While thinking about all the crap he had to deal with and the garbage he father had brought into his life. Ranma was also deciding if he should risk returning to the dojo for dinner and hope that there was something in the refrigerator he could eat, or if he should risk encouraging Ukyo or Xian Pu by going to either of their restaurants.

He had a enough money for something from the takoyoki vendor in the park that he could probably stretch out by using his girl form to scam extra. But he felt a little apathetic about that option. Takoyoki was hardly very large as a single order to begin with, and the extras wouldn't make it much better. 'Nah, I'll just hang out here in the park and practice until the tomboy is sure to have gone to sleep. Pig boy was sitting on the cushion at the table when she brought out her, I dunno what it was, but it sure as Hell weren't no Yakisoba! So she'll pretty likely go to bed kinda early. Bitchin' and moanin' about how ungrateful I am and how big a pervert I am and how I'm prolly hangin' all over Xian Pu or Ukyo.'

Smiling at the thought of the pig being fed the garbage Akane 'cooked' for himself, Ranma could just see the frantic rush to the vet to have Ryoga's stomach pumped. He could also hope that the vet would neuter the moron too. 'Might make pork breath start blamin' somebody else for the Hell he's seen.' Ranma could just imagine the sound of a high pitched battle cry, as if the person screaming it had inhaled an overdose of helium, 'TENDO AKANE, BECAUSE OF YOU I'VE SEEN HELL! PREPARE TO DIE!'

Laughing quietly to himself over the idea, Ranma thought again about the takoyoki, or maybe a beef bowl. Checking his pocket and only finding a couple of coins, he didn't have enough money to make it worthwhile, he shrugged his shoulders and opted to wait until later.

That decided; Ranma rolled over at the bottom of the crater he'd made on his impact, stood and began dusting off the worst of it. Hopping to the lip and looking around the park he saw something that chilled him to the bone. Not twenty feet away was a c-c-c-c- one of them fuzzy demons from Hell.

Then he noticed something very strange. The demon was performing a kata. Perplexed, he stared in amazement at the spectacle. This wasn't something that Ranma had ever experienced before. Sure, he knew that Shampoo would practice in her c-c-c- feline form. But, he'd never seen a regular one do it before.

As Ranma watched the unusual sight of a cat performing the Art, his head slowly tilted to the side. Much the way that a dog's will when a high pitched sound is heard, or it's trying to understand what it's seeing. Blinking in further surprise, Ranma saw that the demon was actually performing Anything Goes kata, the Saotome branch. And there was some Wu Shu involved too, and a few other styles he recognized. Tai Kwon Do, Aikido, Hopkido, Karate, Gong Fu, Escrima without a stick.

Ranma was in awe.

Ranma was impressed.

Ranma was almost jealous that the cat knew more Wu Shu than he did. And he wanted to know how to practice Escrima without the stick.

Ranma wanted to learn from this c-c-c-c-, cuddly Hellspawn. Walking around the furry demon to the other side away from the crater so he would have more room, he began his own kata matching the motions of creature from the fiery depths. The two figures, one feline and the other very human matched motion to motion in a graceful and calming dance for both. The cat wasn't able to perform all the human motions properly, but did what he could. And the human boy was improving the forms that were purely feline to his form.

There were steps for both that seemed near impossible, but they kept trying and skipped over what they had to. The few people that wandered by and witnessed the sight, shook their heads, and declared silently to themselves, 'Only in Nerima!' and walked off after a few minutes.

The pair continued their practice for some time, each of them speeding up at a pace that kept up with the other. After thirty minutes, they had become blurs of red and black and orange. The popping of the sleeves of the long sleeved silk shirt and the rustle of cloth and fur the only sounds to be heard. And still the speed increased in something of an 'anything you can do' competition. After an hour, the blurs became near streaks of color, with near sonic explosions from their movements as they each fought their invisible foes.

Then, at some unheard signal, they began to slow and became fully visible again. They worked their muscles back down from the high-energy exertions to the normal speeds of regular people and animals. As the lights of the park came on to illuminate the various pathways, and the traffic of strollers became less, the two figures, one human male and one feline Tom faced each other. The feline still panted a bit heavily from his exertions and the boy had a sheen of sweat on his brow.

"Well, that was almost as much fun as a good fight." Came the voice.

"Yeah, a good spar woulda be… HEY! You can talk!" Ranma answered, wondering if he would have new nightmares of the neko-ken from this new piece of information. Worse than having to be near c-c-c-c… those things, would be them cooperating on cornering him.

"Yeah, kind of a new development from the last time I saw you in a pit. I dunno your name, but people call me… Cuddles the fierce," the cat replied. "But I think I need to change it to something a little more manly soundin'."

"I'm Ranma Saotome, nice to meetcha' I guess. Ya ain't gonna try to eat me or nothin' are ya?" A tremor in his voice.

"Nah, you ain't a fish or a bird. Now that duck I see chasin' the girl on a bike, or that pig that one girl carries around all the time. I could eat them, but I never got a taste of human. I'm a cat after all. Mostly anyway."

"Whaddya mean mostly?" Ranma asked, getting interested in spite of himself, as he sat down on the grass ten feet from the c-c-c-c… feline.

"Sorry, it's just with all those people that tossed me into those pits and cages where I remember you from. Somethin' happened the last time, and I've been a lot better at fighting and learnin' new stuff from you humans and found out I could talk like you too. Kinda weird, but I kinda like it."

Ranma looked at the c-c-c-c… rabid badger, thinking like that was a lot easier on his mind and nerves, and said, "I guess that is kinda cool."

"Sorry to point it out, but ya seem a little afraid of me. I promise I won't attack you, unless you attack me first." Cuddles the fierce said, trying to calm the human tom before him. I knew there was a reason for it so pressed for why, "Wanna tell me how come yer scared of cats?"

"I hate even thinkin' about it, but… well, when I was a kid. About six or so, my Pops took me and…" From there Ranma told the cat the story of his life. Starting with the idiocy of the Neko-ken training to the last three months since the nightmare of a wedding attempt.

"… an' then she comes into the dining room and puts this stuff that looks like it's ready to crawl off the plate and try to take over Tokyo down in front of me and tells me to eat it. Man, I can stomach a lotta stuff, Hell I spent ten years on that stupid training trip with my old man havin' to eat what he'd cook. Akane has 'im beat hands down on what not to do to food. But there weren't no way I was gonna put that stuff in my mouth and swallow. It was glowin' man.

Anyway, Akane got all pissed and stuff and yanked out her mallet again and here I am." He finished his tale of woe and looked to the fur covered face of his new… friend was a good description, and noticed the cat had an expression that was a mix of horror, pity, anger as well as trying to hold back laughter. Odd as that might be to picture, Ranma was seeing it and couldn't quite picture the expression.

Finally giving in to the need to express himself over what he'd just heard, Cuddles cried for a moment, guffawed for five minutes and then angrily began plotting revenge for the boy before him. Of course, during the laughter the boy in question almost lost his temper at the lack of respect the cat was showing his fate, when he thought about what he'd had to deal with and had to admit. If it had happened to anyone other than himself, he'd be laughing his own ass off over it. So he calmed his own reaction to the cat's laughter.

Still weird to have a conversation with one of the furry demons that occupies his nightmares. Then he noticed the serious look the animal had.

"Ranma, have you ever thought about just tellin' them all to piss up a rope?" The cat asked.

"Yeah, but with the family honor an' all the other crap. I dunno if I can just chuck it an' leave. I got my own honor ya know, and I don't wanna have it wrecked too. Even though, I been talkin' to a couple guys from the National government. They tell me I can leave it all in my Pops lap, cuz he's the one that done it all, an' save my family name by makin' a new sub-branch or somethin' like that. My biggest prollem would be getting' my mastery to teach the Art. An' Pops ain't never go for that."

"What about the grandmaster of the school? From what ya say, he likes ya enough to call ya his heir."

"Happosai might gimme mastery. But, I dunno if I wanna fight him for it either."

"How 'bout just askin' him if he'd give ya mastery, and then judge when yer ready for grandmastery? He prolly thinks yer ready for yer mastery already. That takin' down the burnin' bird thing oughtta prove yer worth to the school."

Ranma looked thoughtful, 'for a talkin' echidna, the koala bear was makin' a lot of sense.' "He might, now that ya bring it up. I guess it don't hurt none to ask."

"That's right, it can't hurt ta ask," the cat agreed. "Now, what are ya gonna do with yer life Ranma?"

"That's a tough question Cuddles. I really don't know. Got too much crap flyin' at me to deal with alla time ta really be able ta think about it."

While the pair were talking, one of the unusual weather phenomenon that had plagued Nerima since the arrival of Ranma to its boarders struck. One brief rain shower later and Cuddles was speaking to a damp, annoyed red haired girl.

"Did you jus' change when it rained?" Cuddles asked, a little put off, even though he'd had the curse described. It was difficult to accept without the visual evidence. And even with the evidence it wasn't easy.

"Yeah, it don't take a lotta water for it ta happen neither," the now feminine tenor voice of Ranma replied.

"Hmmmmmmmmm," Cuddles took a thoughtful pose and sat for a few minutes. He looked as if he were on the verge of something several times and then finally said, "Ya know, I'm a talkin' cat."

"Yeah," Ranma agreed.

"An' yer sort of a Magic Girl."

"Yeah."

"Let's you and me move to that Juuban place I've heard about and set up shop after ya get yer license. I think them magic girls there could use a little help and some trainin'. I also hear they got a couple of magic talkin' cats that help 'em out as advisors." Cuddles suggested.

"I ain't wearin' one of them short skirts!" Ranma declared, "I'm a guy, dammit!"

"I ain't saying ya gotta wear one of them skirts. Think about it, ya get ta beat the crap outta demons, get thanked, mebbe rewarded free food, and you'll be helpin' the weak. I ain't seein' a downside to it." Cuddles explained.

"Ya know, for a carnivorous talkin' rabbit, ya make a whole lotta sense. Let's head ta the dojo so I can see about getting' my Mastery and license ta teach. Then we're packin' and movin' ta Juuban." Ranma told his newest friend.


End file.
